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We were alone, standing under a shower in a dark bathroom lit only by candlelight. She was wearing a robe in my vision, red and velvety. She pulled at the knot on her stomach, and the robe fell away, one leg coming through and the center of her chest visible. She grinned and pulled the robe away, exposing her heavy, luscious breasts and the soft thatch of hair at her core.
I strained against the wall, putting my hand against it to steady myself as I stroked my cock and let the vision take over. I could nearly feel her there with me, pulling the curtain aside and slipping in. Her hands brushing across my chest as our lips smashed into each other. One leg wrapped around my waist as I pushed her into the wall and found her opening.
The vision of sliding inside her was intense. I could nearly hear her cry out as I filled her, feel her heartbeat as it quickened. She would wrap her arms around me, standing on the toes of one leg as I pressed her into the wall, pumping my hips as my cock drove deep inside her.
Then, in my vision, she turned around, pressing her hands on the wall and pushing her ass back into me as I gripped her hips. She would cry for more as I slammed into her, pulling her into me with each thrust. I could feel myself about to explode, about to finally give me the release I had longed for, for so long. I cried out to her.
She would pull away and drop to her knees, taking me into her mouth. Her tongue would caress me, and she would take my cock deep into her throat. My eyes clenched shut as she moaned, a yearning sound, a desperate sound as she waited for me.
My knees buckled as I came, and I slid down until I sat on them, the water pounding the back of my neck. I emptied myself and then stood gingerly. Cleaning up, I then turned the water off, wrapped in a towel, and made my way to bed. The release had been heavy and satisfying and intense. But it was only the first. In bed, I had another, then tossed the towel away and fell into a deep sleep, my mind never leaving the thoughts of Wendy and her body curled into mine.
16
WENDY
It seemed like Olly had been having a nightmare when I went into the living room to check on him. I gave him a reassuring hug and told him everything was going to be alright, that it was just a dream, and he was safe. I registered Finn talking to me, but I was too focused on my son and helping him get back to sleep to really stop and pay attention.
It wasn’t until Olly had relaxed on his pillow again and was back to sleep that I realized Finn had left. I was disappointed, but at the same time, it was probably for the best. That kiss was incredible, but it was also a completely spontaneous decision. I didn’t even hesitate long enough to think about whether he would want me to kiss him.
But from the way he wrapped his arms around me right before Olly stopped us, I had an inkling he was feeling the same way I was, which meant we needed to take a second and breathe. This was all so much, so fast. I needed to take a step back and really think about what was happening before I let myself get completely wrapped up.
I’d gone from just thinking the cook with the bandana and the tattoos was really hot, having a full-blown crush after spending an afternoon with him and my son, to kissing the man in my kitchen. That might not sound like too much to some people, but for a girl trying to outrun her past and stop it from becoming her destiny, it was a lot.
My mother’s voice was still in the back of my head, along with all the terrible things that Trip ever did. I had to stay vigilant and not let myself get swept away again. It wasn’t just about me. It was about Olly and the life ahead of him. When Trip left, it didn’t really matter much to our son. He was still just a tiny baby and didn’t have any attachment to his father. In truth, he probably didn’t even recognize that he existed; Trip had spent so incredibly little time with him. He wasn’t even there when he was born.
Even as I thought about it and reminded myself that I needed to be cautious, I had a really hard time imagining Finn being anything like my own father, or the string of men my mother brought home, or Trip. He’d been nothing but kind, sweet, and caring since we met. Of course, Trip had seemed that way, too. But that was all charm and no substance. He would never go out of his way for anyone the way Finn did.
